Heartbeat of a Time Lord
by Pliva
Summary: The Master had been tormented since childhood. He was capable of anything if it meant a few seconds of silence. Master/Doctor. Spoilers for EoT part II.


**Done for LJ's yodacrook for her prompt "Doctor Who. The Master discovers that the drums the Timelords put in his head are the Doctor's heartbeat. Ergo, the only to escape from them would be to kill the Doctor."There is still one spot open, if anyone wants a fic/icon. Link to my LJ on my profile.**

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The Master fell to his knees as the Gate closed around him, pulling him back to Gallifrey with the rest of the doomed Time Lords. By the time the blinding white light surrounding them had dimmed, he had collapsed at Susan's feet. She risked peeking through her fingers at him and they shared a look before Rassilon recovered. The Doctor and the Earth were safe- everything else was inevitable.

The Time Lord Council had risen from their seats, shouting in alarm as the light faded. The Master turned to look at Rassilon and the old man looked back, rage and anger and fear, filling every line of his face.

"You have doomed us all, my Lord Master!" Rassilon spat, summoning his two guards to help him stand upright. Rassilon was dying, the Master could feel it.

"What else do you expect from a renegade?" the Master replied, not bothering to move. He didn't look over to the higher sections of the council, where his own family would be seated. Where his father would be watching.

"You are a Time Lord. It was your fight as well!"

"My fight here is long over."

Rassilon opened his mouth but was stopped as a tremor ran through Gallifrey. The Time Lords panicked, trampling over each other to escape their seats. Rassilon's own guards abandoned him, leaving him on the floor, coughing up blood as the injuries the Master had inflicted made themselves known.

"I'm going to die with the might Rassilon himself," the Master drawled, shuddering as he felt his body weaken once more, his bones briefly staring around the now empty room. "What an honor."

"You possess no honor!" Rassilon said. The Master threw back his head and laughed, long and desperate.

"That's what you told me the first time you had me executed."

"And I shall kill you once more. It is unfortunate that I..." An ugly smile twisted Rassilon's lips. "You haven't asked about the signal."

"You tortured a child in an attempt to avoid the inevitable," the Master spat. "The drums are just as much a symbol of your madness as they are mine."

"The heartbeat," Rassilon corrected. "Do you know whose heartbeat we used?"

"What do you mean?" the Master asked warily. Rassilon was grinning at him, his eyes crazed.

"We chose a specific heartbeat, my Lord Master. One you'd be most... receptive to."

The Master frowned. "The world is crumbling around you. Your last act is gossip?"

"My last act is your survival," Rassilon replied, struggling upright. "You will follow the heartbeat out of the Time Lock, and travel through the Vortex to its source."

"I won't survive that," the Master said, closing his eyes as his body once again tried to pull itself apart.

"You might find that your journey exacerbates the signal, yes. You'll find it overwhelming," Rassilon's eyes hardened and the Master found himself facing a god of his childhood, the man who doomed monsters and demons, as he passed down his sentence on the Master. "And you will find that the only way to escape the drums is to kill the source."

"What is the source?" the Master shouted, despair beginning to clutch at his hearts. "Who is the source?"

"You have my blessing, my Lord Master," Rassilon said, a smirk on his face.

"No!" the Master shouted as Rassilon raised his gauntlet. The Master was slammed backwards and he screamed as he was through the Time Lock and the Vortex. The power destroyed and rebuilt his body atom by atom a thousand times, tearing open his mind and pouring raw energy in. Once more he saw time and space raging in the intensity of its existence before he was deposited out somewhere in the Universe.

The Master stumbled forward three steps and collapsed as the drums, the heartbeat, pounded in his head louder than he had ever thought possible. He wasn't sure how long he had laid there, where seconds seemed like hours, when another presence pressed against his own. A hand came to firmly grip his shoulder and the other lightly brushed against his forehead.

Before the Master could even hear His voice he could smell him, that unmistakable scent that had always calmed and invigorated him. But now, it terrified him.

"Master?"

His voice cut through the Master's mind like a knife and he risked a glance up. The Doctor's eyes were locked on his face, wide and confused with just the barest hint of joy at seeing the Master alive and the relief of not being alone.

"No," the Master gasped, hearing the blood roar through the Doctor's veins in time with the drums. It was him. The Time Lords had used the Doctor's heartbeat.

The Master tried to get away, he did. He wanted many things in the Universe and a _dead_ Doctor was never one of them. But the Doctor, stupid fool that he was, chased him down.

"Master!" he shouted, his voice strong and determined. "I can help you."

The Master laughed hysterically at him. The Doctor could only help one way. He could die, blood staining his shirt, eyes clouded with pain as his breath became labored before finally stilling as his eyes lost their intelligent glow and dimmed, carrying the Master's world with him.

But the Doctor couldn't understand and he continued to follow the Master. He tried to warn him, but all he could get out was "No." Just "No." The Master chanted it like a litany.

"Shh," the Doctor whispered gently, brining his fingers to the Master's temples. "Just sleep."

The Master went under, collapsing into the Doctor's arms.

---

The Doctor had managed to carry the Master into the TARDIS and he placed him in the medical bay. He briefly considered using the restraints on the sick bed after seeing the Master's erratic behavior but ultimately decided against it. After retrieving tea for the two of them, the Doctor sat in a chair next to the sick bed and waited.

The Master didn't appear to be having a restful sleep. He periodically thrashed around, his eyes darting back and forth beneath his eyelids. Under his breath, almost inaudible, the Master was saying something. The Doctor couldn't make out the words, but he knew the language. High Gallifreyan.

_What happened after the Gate had closed?_ the Doctor wondered. The Master was wearing the same clothes, but definitely worse for wear. His body had stabilized and while there were no indications his powers remained, there was also no sign they didn't.

The Master's eyes slid open and stared glassily at the ceiling before becoming sharp and focused.

"I'm in the TARDIS." It wasn't a question.

"Yes"

"I told you no."

"That was all you would say."

"And you didn't listen?" the Master asked, swinging his legs over the side of the bed and neatly jumping down. The Doctor noticed he was breathing heavily before he realized his fingers were also twitchy and his nostrils flaring all in time to his infamous drumbeat.

"Master?" he asked uncertainly, not quite sure what his state of mind was, "Is everything all right?"

"Why Doctor, are you going to try and diagnose me?" The Master barely held back his desperate laughter. "Too late, I already know. I even know the cure."

That caught the Doctor's attention. "For the drums? How?"

"Rassilon told me," the Master replied, taking another step forward. "He sent me back so I could find it."

The Doctor frowned. "And you trust him?"

"No. But he is right. I know he is. The drums are the heartbeat of a Time Lord. One Time Lord. If I stop the heartbeat the signal dies and so will the drums. When I kill them, I will have _silence_."

The Doctor took an automatic step backwards.

"Whose?"

"Yours."

The Doctor and the Master moved at the same time and crashed together. Trays and other lighter fixtures went tumbling to the floor as they struggled, each trying to get the upper hand. Finally the Master's fingers closed around a scalpel and he held it up to the Doctor's neck just as he tried to pin him. The Doctor stilled and the Master used the opportunity to reverse their positions.

"I win."

The Doctor swallowed hard before resignation steadied his eyes. "I know. And I-"

"Oh no you don't," the Master hissed, pressing the scalpel closer, drawing blood and silence. "This is not about you. This is about me finally getting the peace I nee-" He paused and swallowed, suddenly feeling as if he had revealed too much. "The peace I deserve."

The Doctor eyed him warily. "If I'm your drums and you kill me, it will stop the signal and you'll return to Gallifrey. You'll kill us both for only moments of silence."

The Master frowned. For a second, for a long second, he hesitated with the scalpel biting into the Doctor's neck. For once the Doctor remained silent, not even speaking when the Master pushed himself upwards with an angry sigh and tossed the scalpel into a dark corner in disgust. The Doctor just watched, waiting until he was ready to speak.

The Master sat on the ground, resting his arm against one of his bent legs. He ran a hand through his hair and closed his eyes.

"I just want it to stop," he said, hating how small and weak his voice was. "I want silence."

"I know," the Doctor finally replied, slowly approaching the Master like he was a frightened animal. Maybe he was.

"It never stops, Doctor. It's always there, inside my head, every second with no rest. A constant beating." The Master finally opened his eyes as the Doctor came to kneel in front of him. "Kill me."

A heavy silence settled between them. The Master looked at his old friend as he stared back, his eyes filled with a million lost hopes and deep regrets, because, in the end, the Doctor was in control. He always was.

"No," the Doctor finally said. He looked as if he were going to say something else, but the Master closed his eyes. The Doctor always tried to make the Master merciful, even when he never showed him an ounce.

He felt the Doctor's fingertips on his temples but he didn't react. What did it matter? Rassilon had sent him back on a suicide mission that left him with amplified drums as he kneeled at the Doctor's feet begging for mercy. Death was the only silence. Life would only pound away in his head.

He felt the Doctor sliding in and didn't stop him, allowed him to sink deeper into his mind.

He felt it when the Doctor reached the signal imbedded deep within his brain, causing it to triple in volume. The Master knew he was screaming, he had to be. If the sound hadn't been firmly in his mindscape, if it had been real, his eardrums would have been destroyed. Then, distantly, the Master felt something. Felt the Doctor doing something and then there was a huge pressure and then-

Silence.

_Silence._

He opened his eyes and found the Doctor in his lap, swearing and struggling for air. He managed to push himself upright to look at the Master.

"Did it work?" the Doctor gasped.

"What did you do?" the Master managed to ask, the silence ringing in his ears.

"I canceled the signal," the Doctor replied. He tried to pull up his usual cocky attitude, but he was in too much pain to do so. "Just made it so you transmitted a signal of your own."

The Master looked at the Doctor in horrified wonder. "You implanted my heartbeat in your head."

"I won't hear anything," the Doctor replied. "The signals cancel each other out."

"If you die," the Master finally began, but the Doctor interrupted him.

"We both know what will happen," he said quietly.

The Master didn't reply. The Doctor shifted so he was sitting beside the Master and sighed. They sat there, in the jumbled mess of the TARDIS's sick bay, in mutual silence.

_Finally_, the Master thought.

_Silence. _


End file.
